


the magician's chains

by Anonymous



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Dark Magic, Demons, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:20:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28827330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Hisoka is a demon who is after the life of a powerful magician. When he enters the magician's home, he finds his path unhindered--suspiciously so.
Relationships: Kurapika/Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer
Kudos: 43
Collections: Anonymous





	the magician's chains

Getting in was far too easy.

Hisoka made his way through the lavish, winding halls of the mansion, his senses attuned to the ever-present hum of magic in the air. Hisoka new that he’d find his quarry in the place where that magic was the strongest.

He’d expected guards. He’d expected traps. He’d expected some kind of rebuke for his trespassing, but so far, he’d encountered only open paths, unlocked doors and eerie silence.

This was… very, very strange. Shouldn’t the most powerful magician in the province have better protection on his home?

Hisoka paused at the first closed door he’d come across inside the house. It looked rather ordinary; wood panelling with a golden knob. Hisoka studied it closely, suspicious. The breadcrumb trail of magic he’d been following had led him to this point, where the magic was the strongest. So strong that Hisoka could taste it on his tongue. Sweet, fizzing and delicious. Hisoka licked his lips. For a demon, there was nothing like it.

The magic was what Hisoka was here for. Well, that and the blood of a violent kill. But he’d so far been robbed of his second objective, given that he’d encountered no resistance so far. He’d make sure to take his frustration out on the magician. Maybe Hisoka could skin him alive while draining his magic? The thought got Hisoka excited. He reached for the knob, half-hoping that it wouldn’t turn. He’d enjoy having to bust the door down. But the knob did turn, easily and quietly. Hisoka pushed the door open.

The room beyond was as lavish as the others Hisoka had passed through. Rich, dark red carpet, good for hiding bloodstains, creamy walls, a golden chandelier above, ornate wooden furnishings draped with expensive-looking fabrics… Hisoka had difficulty determining the purpose of such a room. It wasn’t a bedroom, as there was no bed. It wasn’t an office, since there was no desk. It wasn’t a library, since there was only one bookshelf there—besides, Hisoka had already found the library on the first floor. It also wasn’t any sort of sitting room or meeting area, since there was only one chair in the room—which was occupied.

A black-haired man lounged on the chair. He seemed entirely unconcerned by Hisoka’s intrusion into his home. In fact, his expression was calm and expectant, as if he’d invited Hisoka for a dinner party.

This man, dressed in purple and gold robes (his style was a bit mundane for Hisoka’s taste—what was it with magicians and robes?) was undoubtedly the owner of the mansion and the person Hisoka had come to kill. How dare he look so casually arrogant and unbothered.

But it was the thing on the magician’s lap that had Hisoka’s hackles rising. Magic oozed from it like blood from a fresh wound. It stared at Hisoka, crimson eyes showing that they were two of a kind, Hisoka and this little thing.

Young, Hisoka supposed. And stupid, to find itself in a magician’s thrall. Killing it would be a shame, but it was necessary. The little thing would be obligated to protect its master, whether it truly wished to or not. It wouldn’t present much of a challenge to Hisoka, however, young as it was.

“I suggest you leave right now,” the magician said evenly. His voice was like velvet, bewitching in the way so many magicians had. That was only natural, since the simplest of spells were spoken. Hisoka’s eyes moved to the elegant hands, adorned by jewelled rings. Long, slender fingers stroked the bare skin of the thing’s thigh. Fingers perfect for crafting the complicated designs that advanced spells required—this magician was certainly experienced. That was why Hisoka had sought him out. He wasn’t interested in the common fare easily found in the cities. He wanted the delicacies—those worth the chase.

But this wasn’t much of a chase so far. Still, maybe the day would improve.

Hisoka smiled, letting his fangs show.

“I’d really rather not,” he said. “In fact, I think I like this place. The decor appeals to me. I might stay.”

Blood-red eyes observed Hisoka dispassionately from beneath blond hair surrounding a pale, angelic face. It would be a shame, Hisoka decided, to have to kill such a pretty thing. He’d try to make it quick—whenever this magician got off his lazy ass and decided to do something, anyway.

“My pet wouldn’t take kindly to that, I think,” the magician purred. “He gets jealous easily.”

The magician ran his fingers through the soft strands of the demon’s hair, before clenching and tugging. The little thing whined, head pulling back to reveal its bare throat to its master. It was naked but for the silver chains draping casually around it, skin gleaming like porcelain, marred only by a few scratch marks on its thighs.

The magician released the demon’s hair, and it leaned its head against its master’s shoulder, turning only to fix its eyes back on the visitor. Disturbingly, those eyes held hunger. Had the magician fed it recently?

Hisoka felt a surge of pity for the creature. Starving a demon was a common, though dangerous, method of controlling them. It was a tactic that most experienced magicians never tried. Indeed, those magicians who did try usually never lived long enough to _become_ experienced magicians. A starving demon was prone to losing control and lashing out, or worse, being unable to perform the duties its master had set it. Hisoka knew of many magicians who had met their end because their demon was too weak to cast spells reliably.

Hisoka took a step forward, smiling coldly as he licked his lips again. He was hungry, too. He’d put this little thing out of its misery, and then get on with the main course—the smug magician. If said magician were relying on this little, starving thing to protect him, he was about to learn his mistake.

The magician’s eyes narrowed at Hisoka’s silent approach. Hisoka’s fingers flexed, aching to tear skin, to bathe in blood.

“Kurapika, take care of our guest,” the magician said.

Finally!

Hisoka paused, waiting to see what the thing would do. It slowly uncurled, chains clinking, stare still focused on Hisoka. Most demons were attractive, each in their own way, but this one was classically beautiful. Its body was that of a young human boy, perfectly formed and alluring. If the thing were just a bit more experienced, it could have had any magician, male or female, eating out of the palm of its hand.

Hisoka waited for the creature to slide off its master’s lap and onto the floor, grace in every curve of its body. Its expression remained focused and hungry. It licked its red lips, and Hisoka could see the hint of fangs peeking out from between them.

He’d give the little thing a fighting chance, find out what it was capable of before killing it. Hisoka slid one of his playing cards—his chosen weapon—from his pocket. The queen of hearts. An inconsequential fact, but one that Hisoka found apt.

“And, Kurapika?”

The creature paused, ruby eyes still fixed on Hisoka.

“Yes, Master Chrollo?” it asked, its voice musical. Yes, this thing could have had any magician wrapped around its pinky finger, if only it were a bit older—powerful enough to slaughter its master and take control of its own destiny. Such a shame it would never reach that threshold.

“Try not to make a mess on the carpet,” the magician said, a smile as cold and pointed as an icicle spreading across his handsome face.

“Yes, master.” The agreement fell easily from the angel’s lips.

The creature wrapped its fingers around one of the chains dangling from its neck. Seconds later, Hisoka realised that he’d made a grave misjudgement.

“Master?”

Kurapika waited for the magician’s instruction, his hand clenched tightly around the chain that was wrapped around the intruder’s neck. The intruder choked and bled, the carpet dyed a darker red beneath Kurapika’s feet. The scent of the blood and magic dripping from the demon had Kurapika’s mind caught in a hazy, etherial mist. He was so hungry, but his master’s commands still bound him as tightly as a python’s coils. He wasn’t to feed without his master’s permission.

“Go ahead, Kurapika. Take your fill,” Master Chrollo said, his tone affectionate.

Kurapika fell upon the intruder, teeth biting into soft flesh and nails raking through skin. He fed, heedless of his prey’s weakening struggles. When the demon was nothing more than an empty husk, devoid of magic and life, Kurapika backed off, dripping with the demon’s blood. His eyes practically glowed with magic. This had been a powerful demon, and it would sate Kurapika’s hunger for weeks, perhaps even months.

“Good boy,” his master purred.

At his beckoning hand, Kurapika curled up on his master’s lap like a cat, basking in the warmth and the hand carding through blood-stained locks. He rested his head against smooth velvet, nuzzling in. The chains pressed cold against his skin, but Kurapika was well and truly used to them by now. He was even grateful for them. Once, they had been used to bind him, but now they were his weapon. Obedience and loyalty had its rewards.

Kurapika’s master smirked above him, his pet oblivious to the gesture. Chrollo continued to stroke his hair, savouring the magic brimming from every pore of his body. Even the silver chains draping him glowed brighter than they had before.

Chrollo’s fellow magicians had told him that he was a fool for deliberately seeking to summon a young demon, but Chrollo had his reasons for such an unconventional move. What his colleagues had failed to realise was that young demons could be trained, nurtured into obedient—and eventually powerful—slaves. Even _willing_ slaves.

His pretty pet was an apt student—and smart enough to see the advantages in his new position. He had no cares, but to please his master. No responsibilities but to see to his master’s needs. Punishment came only when he deserved it. The rest of the time, he was indulged, petted, and fawned over.

And the occasional overconfident and stupid demon that dared to wander into Chrollo’s home was a rare, delicious treat for the little thing, an incentive to protect his master from harm. If he failed to subdue the intruder, he would starve. Sustenance had to be earned.

His Kurapika had learned quickly and well. Shaped like an angel, with the bloodlust of a demon, Chrollo couldn’t have asked for a more suitable slave.


End file.
